


The Metamorphosized

by BetanSurvey (Scedasticity)



Series: Metamorphosis [2]
Category: Farscape
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 19:29:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scedasticity/pseuds/BetanSurvey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where are they now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Metamorphosized

**Author's Note:**

> Written fall 2006.

The Peacekeepers had generously offered to give the Eidolons a ship, so they wouldn't be stuck on Moya or the scavenged Scarran transport. It was a noble gesture, and would have been more so if the ship hadn't looked like it was older than Rygel.

//Let me rephrase that,// Aeryn thought, following Muoma down the mostly-dark corridor. //It looks like it's older than Zhaan. Its last repair job is older than Rygel.//

The Eidolons were a technologically advanced people, but they hadn't had any experience with space travel for hundreds of cycles. Muoma had asked Aeryn to come look over the ship, make certain it was spaceworthy. So Aeryn had left the baby with John, who was sleeping -- a normal sleep now, a healthy, healing sleep, and maybe it was just as well she had somewhere to go, because she was starting to have trouble keeping herself from waking him every arn to make sure -- taken a transport pod, and flown Muoma and several others across to the ship which had already been informally named ~Qujaga's Hope~.

Aeryn wasn't superstitious, as a rule, but she still felt somehow that naming the ship after their recently destroyed world wasn't the best possible choice.

Thus far, the ship had been spaceworthy, and its life support was functioning fully, even if nothing else seemed to be. There were brown-clad techs scuttling around, working on more repairs. She gathered they'd stayed on the ~Hope~ as it was towed to the treaty site -- no wonder the life support was up.

The techs weren't alone, but most of the soldiers looked to be barely past cadets, and Aeryn hadn't seen an officer yet. She could only hope the command carrier and small group of Vigilantes which had come as the Peacekeepers' post-treaty "reinforcements" were better-crewed. She knew maintenance techs were often certified to pilot short-range supply skiffs, but she really didn't think that meant they should be out in Prowlers.

Muoma paused as they turned a corner, coming upon another tech -- another two techs, only one of them was half inside an access passage, only legs sticking out into the corridor. The other was standing, a diagnostic scanner aimed at the wall above the access hatch.

"All right, raise the intensity *slowly*," said the standing tech.

"I know what to do, Binat," the tech in the wall replied crossly, voice muffled and echoing a little. "All right, starting... now."

The standing tech frowned fiercely at the scanner. He couldn't be much older than the ship's very young soldiers. "Higher... higher... try reducing the frequency... higher... stop *there*! *There*!"

Too late. There was a noisy crackle of energy, and the tech in the wall yelped, kicking. A microt later, she squirmed back out of the hatch, short hair standing on end. "You could have *warned* me, Binat! Oh..." Her eyes widened as she took in the Eidolons and Aeryn.

"I did warn you. I told you to stop-- What?" Binat seemed to realize his singed comrade was staring at something behind him, and turned. "Oh. Um..." He blinked a few times, eyes flickering from Muoma to Aeryn to the other Eidolons and back again. "Stand *up*, Riss!" he hissed, finally, and the other tech lurched unsteadily to her feet, to stand at something approximating attention.

//He couldn't figure out how to address us,// Aeryn decided. One advantage of being on a ship of techs and extremely junior soldiers was that no one felt confident enough to express scorn at the deserter or the inferior life-forms.

"Er, can we... help you?" Riss, although probably no older than Binat, seemed more confident. Or possibly rendered incautious by the shock.

Muoma inclined her head. "I am High Priestess Muoma. You are repairing the ship?"

"Er, yes. Sir. Ma'am. High Priestess." Riss gestured helplessly. "We were, uh, we were working on the power conduits. They aren't as efficient as new conduits, so we're trying to retrofit them -- it's a very old ship, it's been in dead-dock at Yard One for cycles and cycles and cycles, they just threw us on to fix it on the way here. But they're getting a lot of the old ones out of dead-dock now, it'll take a long time to make enough new carriers to replace the First Fleet alone, let alone damage from the rest of the war. We're all going to be very busy with that. Of course this would really be a wonderful opportunity to implement that total Prowler redesign they've been talking about for the last cycle, but no one can make up their minds about that, so far as I can tell. It's a shame, really--"

"*Riss*!" Binat gurgled. Amazingly, it shut her up.

//Yard One.// She could be misinterpreting it, but Aeryn thought these might be shipyard techs, research techs, rather than normal carrier techs. It would go some way towards explaining how Riss had lived this long, at least. //Be fair. It might be the shock from the power conduit.// Or it could be that this audience wasn't important.

Alert to possible danger, Aeryn heard footsteps before another tech appeared behind the first two. She, at least, didn't look like a child. She looked over the scene quickly, and winced a bit. "We detected a power surge here," she said briskly.

"Supervisor," Binat said, sounding hugely relieved. "Um, yes. Tech Eferr made a miscalculation..."

Riss looked mutinous at that evaluation, but managed to stay quiet. The supervisor merely nodded. "Right. I want you two with the crew on the generators. I'll show our guests around."

"Yes, Supervisor," Binat said loudly, not quite drowning out Riss's, "Sure." They stayed quiet until they were out of sight, but Aeryn still heard, "So is there a *crew* on the generators now? I thought it was just Mishen..."

"Can I help you?" the tech supervisor asked Muoma. Her uniform was a bit different from a normal tech's -- dark brown leather, the cut more like a soldier's or scientist's uniform. It must be a shipyard tech thing.

"Possibly. You are...?"

"Senior Tech Rota Hisele, Diagnostics and Design squad, General Engineering, Yard One," the tech said briskly. Her gaze lingered briefly on Aeryn before she fixed her attention on the Eidolons. "I'm directing the repair crew on this vessel."

Muoma nodded. "Would you be so good as to tell us about the ship? I am High Priestess Muoma, these are Alenn and Diar, and Aeryn Sun."

The tech had probably guessed as much, so it wasn't too surprising that she didn't really react. "I can tell you what I know, High Priestess. We've been instructed to extend every courtesy to the Eidolons."

How far, Aeryn wondered, had rumors of the Peacekeepers' true origins reached? She wasn't completely sure how they'd gotten started. She'd thought about trying to tell people, but hadn't, doubting anyone would listen to a deserter. Some of the others might have heard Yondalao's words, and spoken of them. Stark, maybe? Had Muoma received the knowledge with the rest of Yondalao's wisdom? Whatever the source, the story *was* out. And even more surprisingly, spreading.

On the other hand, maybe whoever gave the tech orders was just trying to stay in good odor with the Eidolons, in case of future negotiations.

"This class of ship was primarily used as a troop transport, but it was mostly phased out some time ago. This particular vessel was in dead-dock -- which isn't actually a *dock*, but a stable, very distant solar orbit -- near Yard One." Hisele grimaced slightly. "You may have noticed the exterior of the ship is a little battered. Dead-dock can be very hard on ships, especially smaller ones. The orbits aren't always as stable as we might like. This one was structurally in excellent condition, but it was quite old, and needed extensive refitting."

Yes, it certainly had. Certainly *did*. Aeryn didn't think she'd ever thought about what happened to Peacekeeper ships which outlived their usefulness... she supposed she'd thought they never did, that they served until they were destroyed. Kind of like Peacekeeper soldiers...

"...normally assigned permanently to Yard One, but the circumstances are exceptional. For work on ships which aren't standard, we probably are one of the best choices..."

Hisele seemed oddly familiar. Aeryn wasn't too surprised she couldn't place her, but only that she seemed familiar at all -- back in that other life, she hadn't paid much attention to techs. Of course, what would a shipyard tech have been doing on a carrier?

"The living quarters are down this way. They still need some work, for the most part. We've fixed up some for our own use, but even those are still... rough. Watch out for cables on the deck."

The door actually opened when the control was hit. Muoma and the others looked around -- checking the silent computer, the cabinets, and the little room for the toilet -- and asked a few questions. Aeryn stayed in the main room, where it appeared six techs were camped. The empty bedrolls were lined up with military precision, each carrypack placed precisely at the foot, even through with a bedroll it would inevitably be kicked off. This was just techs -- the soldiers would have more weaponry stored, and ammunition. Still, it looked very much like the standard "secured territory, controlled climate" encampment, with the exception of what seemed to be a large number of dead computer boards stacked in a pyramid.

"What's that?" Aeryn asked, nodding towards the pyramid. Hisele shot her a sideways glance, but fixed her gaze on the computer boards before replying.

"I suppose you could call them trophies. The teams are keeping track of how many dead boards they replace."

"Ah." //Trophies. That makes sense.// Although it was rather amusing to see techs keeping track of broken equipment like enemy kills. //Even here, they're still Peacekeepers.//

The Eidolons finished their inspection of the room, and the tech guided the group along to the mess hall, stopping first to pick up several handlamps from another set of living quarters which seemed to be being used as a supply dump. "There are food prep units over that way, but I'm afraid they haven't been fixed up at all, as we brought our own rations," Hisele said apologetically as they entered the dark cavern of the mess hall. The tables were still there, attached to the deck, but there were no chairs or benches. "They actually need to be *cleaned* up first, as incredibly enough more or less every surface in there is covered in some sort of... lichen. I think."

"On an abandoned, unpowered ship?" Aeryn asked incredulously.

Hisele shrugged. "Apparently. It *was* pressurized."

Aeryn gave a mental shrug herself. She supposed she could ask Pilot or John about Space Lichen. //It would be more Zhaan's field, though. Or Jool's. Or even Sikozu's.// She still didn't even know what had happened to the Kalish, preoccupied as she'd been with John's condition, and taking care of the baby, with what little attention should could spare going to Chiana, the great yawning hole in their "family" overshadowing other absences. Maybe Pilot had asked, or Rygel.

She could also ask Noranti -- about Sikozu, anyway. She wasn't *that* curious about the Space Lichen.

From the mess hall, they made their way toward Command. "We don't have any lifts operational, so the only way to the generators involves some ladders. If you could come back later--"

The lights in Command were fully operational, and another junior tech was working on the computers. And -- finally! -- there was an officer, albeit a lieutenant probably fresh out of training.

"Senior Tech," said the lieutenant. "I've been trying to comm you for almost an arn."

Hisele's posture altered, just slightly, but all at once she looked more like the carrier techs Aeryn was familiar with. "The comm system still isn't reliable, sir. The computer system has to be fully operational before signals can be targeted accurately."

"This was important!" snapped the lieutenant.

Hisele started to withdraw a little more, then straightened. "Lieutenant, malfunctioning computers are not sensitive to priority. For an urgent message you need to send a runner."

And it was that attitude, faintly wary but certain of her rightness, that, finally, Aeryn recognized. Memories surfaced at last, of a several-day stay in Medical with a broken leg, with four baffling roommates. //Frelling fahrbot recruits.// Transit madness, it had been. And this was Studying Recruit -- violent nightmares, hiding in the cupboard, biting the medtech -- last seen as Tech Trainee... Rota Hisele. //Yes.//

"Well, there are very important visitors!" said the lieutenant. "The Eidolon High Priestess--" He broke off, apparently noticing for the first time that the visitors in question had followed Hisele into Command. "There they are. I need you to stay by the comm in Command while I show them around."

Hisele smiled a small, patently false smile. "Of course, sir. I believe they wished to see Command."

As soon as the little tour had moved away across the room, Aeryn turned to Hisele. "You spent some time on a carrier after you were recruited, didn't you?"

Hisele looked at her sideways again. "I did. They decided my skills were more usefully employed elsewhere."

"Somewhere not in transit?"

"I don't know if it affected their decision, but it was a relief to come off the sedatives." Finally, Hisele looked at her straight on. "You do remember. I wondered -- you were so young, and it couldn't have been as important to you as it was to us."

"It... made an impression." And it had given her a very basic understanding of transit madness, not that that had helped at all, in the end. "You seem to have come out of it all right."

"Diagnostic techs can be sedated for the sleep cycle without causing many problems," Hisele said with a shrug. "And I was thought worth cultivating, and in the end they transferred me to Yard One." She paused. "I'm surprised you recognized me, even remembering. Sometimes I hardly recognize myself."

"People change," Aeryn replied. Scared recruit to confident senior tech; conscientious cadet to deserter, and so much more. "People need to change."

"True enough." Hisele fell silent, watching the junior tech yank out another dead computer board, no doubt destined for a trophy pile.

"Are you happy?"

It was an odd thing to ask -- Aeryn knew better than most how you could think you were happy when some part of you was dying. But Hisele had been a recruit. She remembered, perhaps, a different kind of happiness.

Hisele shrugged. "I have my work, and I'm good at it. And it's good work -- fixing things, building things. Sometimes creating things, though that's rare. Mostly High Command is happy with the designs we have, even when they haven't changed since *this* thing was built. And I have my trainees." The smile this time was genuine, and broad. "Keeps life interesting. You met some of them."

Aeryn snorted. "Are all shipyard techs like that?"

"Riss is worse than most. But in theory the position has more latitude than a shipboard tech, since techs are the whole point of a shipyard, not just there to support the combat troops. In practice... we usually don't get much attention. So... well, I suppose I am happy. There are certainly worse fates, and I only just escaped a few of them."

"What did happen to, um..." *Mumbler* probably wouldn't do it. "The other recruit, the one who was still there when you left? The one who thought his dead... uncle was talking to him?"

"Ilko," Hisele said. "I don't know. I was slotted into accelerated training for high-level tech right away, and... I never saw any of the others again." She shook her head. "I think... I think actually I haven't seen anyone from my colony since I walked out of that medical unit. At least not that I know of."

"Ah." Aeryn didn't have so much as a guess, either. If he'd been rehabilitated, he could have ended up assigned almost anywhere. If he hadn't... well, she still didn't know what they did with those cases. //Probably doesn't involve any vorlags, though.//

And then the young lieutenant was back, and they left Command, leaving Hisele behind. The lieutenant pointedly ignored Aeryn, but he seemed awed by the Eidolons, almost to the point of obsequiousness. The story had definitely been spreading. Aeryn didn't pay much attention to his spiel, but scrutinized the ship herself. It was structurally sound, at least. It would take time to fix it up, and then the Eidolons would have to learn how to use and maintain it, but it would do.

Just as Aeryn was starting to get uncomfortable about leaving John and the baby for so long, Muoma announced they had seen enough for one day, and would be back when the repairs were more complete. Aeryn was pretty sure everyone involved was relieved, especially the two Eidolons with Muoma, who were *not* priests and weren't used to being treated like it. In the transport pod, she summarized her observations about the ship for Muoma and the others, leaving out her opinion of the lieutenant. Once on Moya, she headed straight for living quarters.

She got back to their cell to find both John and the baby awake, apparently just having finished a diaper change. "Hey, look, it's Mom," John said to the baby. "Hi, Mom! How'd it go?"

"Fine," Aeryn replied. "The ship is very old, but it will be workable after the repair is finished." She sat on the bed and watched John wash his hands, then carry the baby back to the bed, bouncing a bit.

He set the baby down, then carefully lay down next to him. "Gotta say, Crichton the Younger has a very healthy set of lungs. Should've heard him earlier." After a moment, he added, "You seem quiet."

She sighed. "I ran into someone I knew on the ship."

John sat up straight, concern in his eyes. "You okay?"

"Oh, yes. I never knew her very well." Aeryn shook her head. "Rota Hisele, Senior Tech, Diagnostics and Design... there's more to it, but it hardly matters. She's a shipyard tech now. Shipyard techs are special," she added, answering John's unspoken question. "I think they're more autonomous, high status -- at least on their own ground. They're supposed to be the best, too."

"Huh. Wonder why Gilina wasn't in one."

Aeryn waited for the expected twinge of jealousy, but it didn't appear. John loved *her*. They were married -- finally. They had the baby. She had no cause to be jealous of poor dead Gilina. "She probably should have been," Aeryn said ruefully. "But assignments don't always make sense."

"Yeah, especially with Crais or Scorpius at the helm," John muttered. "Sorry. Go on. This tech."

"I met her a long time ago, when she was just a recruit. I was a cadet."

"How old a cadet?"

"Seven cycles? Eight? She and the other recruits were a little older. We were all in Medical. It was... well, not complicated, but a long story. I only knew her a few solar days. Saved her life, when one of the other recruits tried to kill her."

John raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Transit madness." Now John looked really curious, but this wasn't the point. "She's done rather well, it seems," Aeryn continued. "We talked a little. And... I think what she has is what Peacekeepers should have, in ideal circumstances," Aeryn tried. "She likes her work, is good at it, proud of it -- she *should* be proud of it, building things, fixing things. She respects her peers and is fond of her students, and tolerates her superiors. And she thinks she is happy. She *is* happy. But looking at it now, I can see that even for someone so fortunate as to be a senior shipyard tech, that happiness is so -- so cold and empty--" She broke off, shaking her head.

John looked at her thoughtfully. "I think I get it. No love."

Aeryn nodded. "No love." //And she knows it. No matter how much she denies it, she knows it.// She leaned over to pick up the baby; John immediately tried to entice the child into a game of 'catch the finger'. (According to the development data she'd acquired, it would be a while before the baby's motor skills developed enough for that, but John kept trying.) "No family. No one she knows outside the command structure. She's a Peacekeeper now. And--" Aeryn hesitated before the next part. "I was -- glad, when Yondalao told me of the Peacekeepers' history, that there *was* a noble beginning. But now, looking at the best case scenario for a Peacekeeper, I have to wonder what the Eidolons were *thinking*."

"Maybe they weren't. Happens to the best of us," John offered.

"Or they decided it was worth it, for the sake of everyone else." The baby, still not interested in John's finger, nuzzled at Aeryn's breast. "Hungry again?"

It took a few hundred microts to get the baby settled feeding, while John gazed adoringly at both of them. She really would have to ask Pilot to have a DRD capture an image of John looking like that.

When the baby was slurping contentedly away, Aeryn looked up and caught John's eye, making sure she had his attention. "What I am saying... I will always be a soldier, John. But even if the Peacekeepers were what they were supposed to be, I would rather have this life."

John came and leaned his head on her shoulder. "I'd rather have you in this life, too. Funny, isn't it, how we grow past where we came from..." He stroked the baby's soft downy hair. "Kinda makes you wonder where this little guy'll end up, doesn't it?"


End file.
